Chapter 1
Melwood Training Grounds, Liverpool18 August 2010?Good morning sunshine!?
I glared at him. Why did he have to be so damn annoyingly chipper? Particularly today.
It was not a good morning and it was his fault.
?Get bent, Gerrard,? I mumbled, rubbing my temples. I hated him. I really, really hated him.
I dropped my bag on the gym floor and began rummaging through it. I knew I had something in there to get rid of the pounding in my head. This was the second year in a row that Steven had done this to me.
?A-ha!? I exclaimed triumphantly, immediately regretting it. My excitement sent a wave of pain through my already cloudy head.
?You?re looking a little pale, this morning,? I heard Jamie?s voice from behind Steven. I could tell he was just as amused as Steven was.
?I hate you both.?
I snatched the water bottle out of Steven?s hand and popped the aspirin in my mouth. I took a gulp of his water before placing the cap back on and handing the bottle back to him.
?That was my water,? he pouted, looking down at the bottle.
?That?s what you get for being the cause of this hangover, Gerrard.?
?You better get yourself together quick,? Jamie said, now standing next to Steven. ?We don?t need you getting fired. Gerrard worked too hard to keep you here.?
?Right,? I rolled my eyes. ?Thank you almighty Stevie.?
?I couldn?t lose my little buddy,? he grinned, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. ?Happy birthday Lana.?
?Happy birthday,? Jamie echoed before the two of them walked off toward the stationary bikes.
I glanced around. Five players were supposed to be training inside. I was looking at only four. I sighed heavily, knowing exactly who was missing. He?d begun making a habit of it. At some point, it was going to get both of us in trouble.
Reaching into my bag again, I pulled out my phone. I walked quickly across the hall into my office before I hit send. I held the phone to my ear as I walked to the back of the small room and rested my head on the cool glass of my only window.
My ?office? was more like a broom closet. I only had my own office so I could make the manager?s phone calls without being interrupted constantly. But that never worked out properly.
At this point I wasn?t even sure why I was still around. After Rafa had been fired, I had been sure they?d let me go as well. I wasn?t essential to the management team and I?d really only gotten to be his assistant through a family friend. Now, with new management, and rumors of new ownership, I did nothing but stand around at training sessions and answer the occasional question from the press.
?Answer your phone damn it!?
And babysit a particular Spaniard.
?It?s still in the car, querida.?
I jumped, spinning around as he closed the door. He looked like he?d gotten a full night of sleep, while I looked like I hadn?t slept in a month. He looked like he hadn?t been sitting at the bar matching me shot for shot. He looked... beautiful.
?You?re late,? I told him, moving away from the window. I placed my phone on the desk.
His eyes darted away from mine. I knew why he was late.
?I had a rough morning.?
?If you don?t get your ass on the bike, your morning is going to get a lot worse. Try to act like you want to be on this squad. Please??
He stepped closer to me, his expression unchanged. I watched him closely. There would come a point where he would break. I hoped that when he did, I could be as strong for him as he had been for me. He stopped just in front of me and I felt the familiar prick in my stomach. After two years, I was now used to it.
?Does anyone know?? he asked.
?No,? I replied. ?And it will stay that way.?
He simply nodded before turning back toward my door. I found my hand reaching out seemingly on it?s own. He stopped when I?d laced my fingers with his.
?Fernando,? I wanted him to turn around and look at me. He did so slowly. ?I?m serious. It goes nowhere.?
?Thank you Lana,? he smiled weakly, placing a kiss on my forehead. ?And happy birthday.?
I watched him walk out the door before turning back to my desk. I prayed that Roy Hodgson was on the training field and not making a surprise appearance inside. I wasn?t sure what would happen if he found that Fernando was late again. Or if he found out that I was covering for him again.
I glanced down at the phone on my desk. The voicemail light was blinking. I wondered how many of those messages were from the press with questions about who would be transferred. Most of the questions centered around Fernando. After the World Cup it seemed that, according to the press, the only logical thing for Fernando to do was to leave.
I jumped as a hand appeared in front of me, holding a cupcake with a single candle.
?Happy birthday to you,? the owner of the hand sang. ?Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Lana. Happy birthday to you!?
?Too loud,? I groaned, looking up at my assailant. ?Hangover, Emma. I know you don?t understand that concept.?
?I do not appreciate your sarcasm, Lana Kennedy. Not one bit,? Emma pouted. ?Now blow out the candle before wax gets all over your cupcake.?
I allowed a small laugh and blew out the candle before taking the cupcake from her hand. Emma leaned against the desk and crossed her arms. She watched as I placed the small cake on the desk and grabbed a clipboard.
?Did you make it?? I asked, flipping the pages. I?d become incredibly adept at holding a conversation while checking schedules.
?No. I think Martin is afraid I?ll set fire to the flat.?
I laughed as I tucked the clipboard under my arm. The dull headache was slowly starting to subside. The nausea, however, was not. It would be a while before I tasted the cupcake.
?How does it feel to be 22?? she asked.
?The same as it felt to be 21,? I shrugged. ?Which was the same as it felt when I was 20. I think I?m just going to stay mentally 19 forever.?
?You keep working around here you will.?
?I know. I take it you?re working with Roy today??
?Yeah,? she rolled her eyes. ?Strange how things change in a year.?
?I don?t even want to think about where we were a year ago.?
?Starting a season without Alvaro.?
?And Xabi.?
?And you were finally done with chemo.?
I cringed at the memory.
Chemo?It had been just over a year since I?d walked back into Melwood. And it had been a year since I?d walked back into Anfield, thin and pale, with less than an inch of hair on my head. The diagnosis had come six months before that, only a year after I?d begun working at Liverpool.
?I?m sorry.?
?For what? It?s a part of my life. And now,? I smiled at her. ?This club is my future.?
?You are going to manage this club someday with bullshit like that,? Emma laughed as she turned and headed out to the pitch.
A/N: Thoughts? :-P
